Silence Says More Than Words
by Paperclip-Assassin
Summary: They always have their most meaningful conversations when they don't talk at all, but some things have to be said after years of being bottled up inside. Previous title: "Alive" Sorry for the long wait between chapters.
1. Chapter 1

**Hey, it's me yet again (:**  
**I don't know where it came from but I was going to write a happy fluff-filled Tiva fic with loads of humor in it...so basically the stuff I usually write**  
**BUT**  
**When I started writing it turned out nothing like that. Instead it's angsty and sad and so _different_ from what I usually write.**

**Also, I decided to make it a two-shot now..because I just always find ways to continue my one-shots and this seems to be no exeption.  
**

**I am not at all sure about this, so please tell me your thoughts in a review. It would really help me.**

**Disclaimer: Is it wrong to wish that I owned these characters? Well I don't think so, but it's still just that. A wish. I don't own them and probably never will.**

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**~ Alive ~**

She didn't know what he wanted when he knocked on her door at 3 am but she knew that she had to let him in because he had _that_ look on his face. The one that made her heart break for all the sadness it held. She stepped aside, letting him in and he kicked off his shoes and threw his jacket on a chair. She watched him patiently as he started pacing her small living room, not saying a word. His unusual lack of rambling bothered her.

"What is it, Tony?" she finally asked after what had to be more than fifteen minutes of silence. She was now sitting on her couch, legs folded underneath her, facing him. He looked at her for a moment before shaking his head and walking around her side of the couch. As he passed her, their knees briefly touched and she was surprised by the tiny electric shock she felt. He sat down next to her but left enough space between them so they wouldn't accidentally touch. This used to be different. Usually he would sit as close as possible, their shoulders brushing with every intake of air.

She looked away, out her window where even at this time of the morning the streets were still filled with cars. It was a busy night. For a while she was fascinated by the lights that rushed by and her eyes were glued to the scene that unfolded itself outside. Then she felt his gaze heavily on her and she ripped her eyes from DC's streets to meet his. She couldn't quite place the look he was giving her. Describing it as _sad_ would be wrong but it was far from happy. All she wanted to do was reach out and touch him and make that look vanish but instead she balled her hands into fists and let them stay in her lap.

"Would you, ah, like something to drink?" she tried again to get something out of him, even a simple 'yes' or 'no' would have done the job and made her worry less but instead he only shook his head in a movement she wouldn't have detected if she hadn't been that focused on him. She sighed in frustration and got up. Now she was the one pacing, but her eyes never left him even after he looked away. With a quick glance at the clock on her wall she realized that he'd already been there for more than thirty minutes and still hadn't said a single word. "God, just talk to me please!"

His head snapped up and for a second he looked like a scared child, eyes wide and glassy, before he focused on her again and swallowed once. This was really freaking her out. What could possibly have happened for him to be that…broken? Yes, that's what he seemed to be. Broken. When he looked away again, staying silent, she almost lost it.

"I am going to make some tea for myself. Do you want some too?" She wasn't surprised when there was no answer and she didn't exactly want to leave him in her living room all by himself, but she just needed to do something to distract herself.

In her kitchen she roamed through her cupboards in search for his favorite flavor and found it in the small blue tea box he'd got her for Christmas a couple of years ago. She owned a lot of such boxes but from the moment that she had unwrapped it, it had been her favorite. Just like she loved his favorite movies in her shelf more than her own and wore his OSU sweater to bed sometimes when she felt drained out from a particularly challenging case. Of course he was never to know that because it just wasn't the kind of thing they talked about anymore. Too much had happened in the past. But she would be lying if she said she didn't miss it.

She dropped the teabags into the hot water and added several spoons of sugar into his cup before taking it back into the living room together with her own cup. He didn't look like he had moved an inch and only his slightly shaky breathing and occasional blinking showed her that he hadn't died right there, sitting on her couch. She put the cup on the coffee table in front of him and sat down, closer than before. He didn't move to take his cup, so she reached out and handed it to him. She was almost surprised when he actually accepted it from her and raised it to his mouth, taking a cautious sip. His eyes closed and he sighed and some of the tension seemed to leave his body with every small sip of tea. She gulped her own drink down at once, too nervous and worried to even care about the sharp pain she felt in her tongue as the hot liquid came into contact with it.

As he finished his cup he actually moved to put it back on the table and reached out to take one of her hands in his. She looked up in surprise and almost pulled away in a reflex, but let him hold her hand in the end.

"I-"he started in a whisper but swallowed hard and she thought she could see tears glistening in his eyes for a second before he looked away. She gave his hands a reassuring squeeze, nudging him on to continue. He searched the room for a second but she didn't know what he was looking for. "I almost lost you."

His voice broke twice as he choked the words out and she herself was the one lost for words now. Their case had been pretty tough but she hadn't even for one second been scared for her life. "Tony, I was never in danger. Gibbs-"

He shook his head sadly, interrupting her. "I didn't mean today." His grip around her hand tightened and she felt like he was going to crush her fingers but she also knew that he needed the contact right now and so she let him hold onto her as if for dear life.

"Then what did you mean?" she asked softly when he didn't make any attempt to continue. He looked at her again and now she was sure that there were definitely tears in his eyes. She had never seen him cry before. Not after Gibbs got blown up, not after Jenny had died, not after Franks. Only once had his eyes been that dead, his expression that helpless…

He didn't have to say it for her to understand now. And she could finally make sense of his lack for words. She wouldn't be able to talk about it either. Even after more than three years the memories of that cell still haunted her and she still found herself waking up screaming sometimes, even though it was happening less frequently than it used to. She closed her eyes briefly, pushing the images that flashed through her mind away. When she opened them again his gaze was empty and he seemed to be looking right through her.

She raised a shaky hand, the one he wasn't holding on to, and brushed her fingers tentatively across his skin. His fingers tightened even more around hers for a second before he made a move to pull his hands away with a sigh. She stopped him, taking his right hand and lifting it, pulling it closer until she could place the palm of his hand right over her heart. She ignored it when she felt her heartbeat speed up at the touch and just held his hand there, breathing steadily in and out until he looked at her again with questioning eyes.

"I am here," she said softly, "I did not die back then. I am sitting here right next to you with my heart still beating."

"Only a day later and…" again his voice broke before he could finish the sentence and she just held onto his hand a bit harder.

"I'm here, Tony," she repeated, her voice gaining confidence, "Because of you."  
He nodded hesitantly as if he didn't believe her words. They sat perfectly still, just staring into each others' eyes and listening to the other's breathing. She would have found it quite pleasant if it hadn't been so out of character for him to be that tense and on the verge of tears. When she couldn't stand the silence anymore she shifted into a more comfortable position, never taking his hand off her heart. "What happened?"

It was clear what she meant. Something had to have been triggering him or else they wouldn't be talking – or _not_ talking -about all of this now, at 4 am on a Thursday night, after years of clamming it up inside and denying that it ever happened. He brushed his thumb absentmindedly back and forth over her skin; raising goose bumps in the process and making her suppress a shiver.

"I had a dream tonight, a nightmare," he stopped and searched her eyes for a moment in case she decided to laugh at him. She didn't even think about it. "We, Tim and I, we burst into that cell and that bastard just smiled at us. He smiled and said '_I have been waiting for you_'. I was furious and started shooting at him until he dropped to the ground and didn't move. I still added another couple of rounds for good measure even though I was sure he was already dead and then Tim-"He seemed to be somewhere far away and she felt him starting to shake violently but she couldn't bring herself to move, in some state of shock herself. "He pointed in a corner and I couldn't see anything because it was so damn dark and I took a step closer and there were _you_, lying there with your arms and legs spread from you at impossible angles and all beaten up and bloody and…_dead_!"

The last part was such a low whisper that she had to read his lips to make out the last word. Tears were threatening to spill from her eyes and she bit down hard on her lower lip to keep it from quivering.

"I tried to revive you but there was no use and when I held you your body was cold and limp and far too light-"  
Suddenly he jumped up and made a run for the bathroom. She didn't register that he was gone until she heard him retching from across the apartment and regained her senses. With a sniff she got up and walked slowly down the hallway. She stopped in front of the door to her bathroom where she covered her face with her hands for a moment, trying to stay strong for both of them. With a heavy sigh she laid a hand on the doorknob and pushed the door open when she heard the toilet flush.

Inside she had to swallow hard. He sat on the tiles beside the toilet, head leaning against her bathtub and sweat glistening on his forehead. She felt her heart break time after time with every tear that fell from his eyes. When he noticed her he quickly wiped a hand over his eyes and blinked a couple of times. With a weak smile she held a washcloth under running water and filled a plastic cup with the cold liquid as well before she knelt down next to him, handing him the cup. His attempt to smile failed but she appreciated the try more than anything. After he'd run out his mouth, he put the cup down next to him and she touched his shoulder lightly, making him turn his head towards her. She touched the wet cloth to his forehead and felt him relax under the contact. With a sigh he closed his eyes and leant his head back against the cold bathtub.

When she was sure he had calmed down completely again, she put the cloth away and stared at him for a moment before shifting closer and hesitantly leaning her head on his shoulder. In a reflex his arm came around her and pulled her even closer while she put her hands around his neck. She never knew how much she had missed having him this close until that moment and she suddenly felt like she could breathe again even though she hadn't known that she had suffered under the lack of air in her lungs.

"I'm still here," she whispered confidently and buried her face in the crook of his neck, inhaling deeply so she would never forget his scent again.

"I know," he whispered back before brushing his lips over her forehead in the mere ghost of a kiss. "I know."

_**TBC**_


	2. Chapter 2

**Holycrap, I totally forgot about this! I mean I had it partly planned and then kept writing and re-writing and then all this time passed and...ohmygod I'm so sorry!**

**Uh, well I actually like the first chapter better...as in _much_ better. But I just felt like it was incomplete...I don't like leaving things open ended...even though that's sometimes a good thing. And I found it really hard to write Ziva...dammit I need to watch more NCIS re-runs!**  
**Also...I don't know how long it's been since I've last had time to write...teachers love to steal all my free time.**

**Anyway, I really hope you're not too mad and start sending me rotten vegetables..**

**Disclaimer: _I am proud owner of a star of David necklace and some Goth stuff...but I don't own anything else NCIS related._**

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Her eyes were blinded by the bright light and she squeezed them shut again before she could even process where she was currently sitting. Still with the dizziness of sleep she shifted her weight from one side to the other, hitting her head on something hard and cold. She groaned and forced her eyes open again, blinking several times until she could see properly. A surprised sound escaped her lips as she found a pair of sea-green eyes looking at her. First she couldn't understand but then the previous night slowly came back to her and she realized that they must have fallen asleep on her bathroom floor. She sighed and moved to get up, supporting herself on the bathtub. He tried to do the same thing but she heard several joints crack at the movement and winced when his face turned into a grimace of pain. She helped him up as best as she could while he kept swearing under his breath. She was glad that he at least didn't seem to intend on keeping silent like the night before.

Still, no words were needed when they padded down her hallway to the kitchen where she started to put some kettle on but changed her mind and went to prepare two cups of coffee. His eyes were on her the whole time and she put a lot of effort into not looking back at him. With two steaming cups of much needed caffeine she finally turned, meeting his gaze tiredly, a weak smile on her lips. He muttered a soft '_thanks'_, which she took as a good sign, before he took a cautious sip. She herself didn't touch her cup after she'd set it down.

"So," she started, "How drunk were you yesterday?" He didn't answer her straight away and looked interestedly at his cup. She didn't push any further just now, knowing that he would talk eventually. He seemed to be in some kind of trance state, staring into empty space and barely moving, when she started to lose her patience. Usually she would be on her morning run by now and she began to feel the lack of routine. She was just about to say something when he looked up at her again and – much to her surprise – laughed.

"I wasn't drunk, Ziva," he said softly before taking another sip of coffee. That didn't surprise her, although his smile made her doubt her own judgement as well as his. She raised an eyebrow and reached for her own coffee, but instead of drinking it she merely analysed its smell. She loved tea, but something about the smell of coffee alone made her feel ...better. Tentatively she took a small sip, savouring the rich flavour on her tongue. She almost moaned with pleasure before she realized that she wanted to get an explanation out of her partner now that he seemed to be – more or less - rational again.

"So you weren't drunk," she said with a deep frown. "Then please explain why you turned up at my doorstep in the middle of the night, not saying a word and almost giving me a heart attack." Her voice was a bit louder than she had intended for it to be, but he didn't even blink. He turned his gaze up to the ceiling in an attempt to avoid her eyes. She took a big gulp from her cooling coffee to stop herself from snapping at him.

"Please don't do that Ziva," he said with a sigh and she couldn't stop herself from snorting at the statement, but he held one hand up to silence her before she could comment. "Just let me talk, okay?" She considered that for a moment before she leant back in her chair and nodded her head, waiting for him to continue.  
"When I woke up I felt lost and close to a nervous breakdown. I had to do something, make sure you were alive and I know that it's silly but at that time it seemed like the only thing to do," he explained softly, his expression unreadable. "And then when I saw you it somehow made things worse because the images of my dream just came back more vividly. Then you were there sitting next to me and touching me and trying to make me feel better and I realized that I...that we...Jeez, you're a skilled investigator, I'm sure you can connect the dots, right?"

She couldn't connect the dots. She just stared at him and wondered what his facial expression could possibly mean. His eyes were bright even though he wasn't smiling and somehow she felt her cheeks turn hot without knowing the reason.  
"Tony, it was just a dream," she whispered, more to assure herself than him, "nothing has changed."

He jumped up, startling her so much that she spilled part of her coffee. "Exactly!"  
Now if his previous behaviour had confused her then she didn't know what to feel now. He beamed at her with the brightest of smiles and breathed in deeply.

"I am not following...?" she said hesitantly while she got up to get a wet cloth so she could clean up the mess on the table. While she started wiping around on the wood he paced back and forth, only sending her short glances every once in a while. When she finished she leaned against the table and waited for him to clear things up. He stopped and turned to face her.

"It's been three years, Ziva." She winced slightly, knowing only too well how much time had passed since that dreaded summer, but she didn't interrupt him. "Three years and nothing has changed. I mean of course things have changed. You're an American citizen now and NCIS Special Agent and all, but for me...nothing has changed." He took a step closer and took one of her hands in his like he'd done the night before, only this time it seemed less desperate. The contact still startled her.

"You sound like Abby," she said, looking away. She had a faint idea where this conversation was heading and she didn't think she liked that direction. Or maybe the problem was that she liked it a bit too much. He squeezed her hand to get her attention back.

"I realized that, no matter what happens, in the end I always end up at your doorstep. After Jeanne, after Wendy, every time dad got involved in some shit. You're always here. And lately I've been thinking a lot about that. About us-"

"There is no '_us'_, Tony!" she interrupted him harshly, yanking her hand out of his grip. "I do not know what kind of drugs you have taken but there is a 'you' and there is a 'me' and _not_ an 'us'!" She was almost yelling at him, regretting her words even before she said them. His smile disappeared and his hand dropped to his side. He swallowed hard and his eyes darted around the room.

"There's always been an 'us'," he whispered as he met her eyes, wearing a determined expression. "That's the reason why I killed Michael, why I went on a suicide mission to kill the man that had taken you away from me and why I spent the last year for the right time to tell you all this!"

"This is ridiculous!" she shrieked, throwing her arms in the air, shocked by his confession and honesty, because for the last three years they had always left these things unspoken and hidden deep down within and now she didn't know how to deal with this. Suddenly she was scared. Scared of what he was saying, scared of change and – most of all – scared that this might just all be actually happening.

"Is it?" he asked, his voice gaining volume and rising an octave. "Is it ridiculous that I went to a children day-care centre to convince myself that they're not as scary as I remember them? Or that I talked to Gibbs about Rule 12 while you thought," he swallowed hard, "While you thought I was with _Wendy_? Or that I talked to Mr CIA about a million times because that son of a bitch kept forgetting your ring size?" The laugh that followed his confession was far from humorous and she looked to the ground, embarrassed. "Tell me, Ziva. Is all of this ridiculous?"

She was utterly speechless after this and she didn't know when exactly he'd come that close but he was directly in front of her now, she could feel his breath on her face. Before she could process her actions she grabbed his shirt and pulled him close while her other hand came up around his neck.

There was nothing close to the feeling of his lips on hers. As soon as their mouths collided, his arms came around her and held her while he kissed her back greedily, forcing his tongue into her mouth when she didn't seem to object. Frankly, she had no intention on stopping him. All rational thoughts had been thrown out the window when she'd decided to kiss him.  
His kisses together with his intoxicating scent raised goose-bumps on her skin and made her heart pound as if she was running a marathon. Soon she found herself gasping for air as she ripped her mouth away from his so she wouldn't pass out.

"Yes," she whispered, still panting, while his forehead dropped on hers. She felt his eyes on her, but she refused to open her eyes. If she was just dreaming it would kill her to wake up now.

"What?" he asked confused, but with a smile in hiss voice.

"Yes, Tony, it is still ridiculous," she explained, and when he stiffened and sighed in defeat and his arms atarted to losen around her, she risked everything and opened her eyes to look at him. "But it is also the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me." Silence fell between them and they stared at each other. "It makes me feel...appreciated," she finally said and leant up to kiss him again. To her surprise he pulled away.

"Ziva...I do a little more than appreciate you and I think you know that, but if you don't belive me..." he paused to cup her cheeks with both his hands "I lo-"

She interrupted him by placing a finger on his lips, tilting her head to the side and giving him her most loving expression. "I know," she said, her voice stronger than she'd thought it would be. "It is just...this was all very sudden and..." she struggled to find the right words and his hands dropped from her face, "I...I need time to make sure...this is real," she gestured between them.

Tony sighed and his eyes turned sad, which confused her. When he looked at her again he smiled, but his eyes were filled with hurt. "This," he copied her gesture of pointing from himself to her, "is only as real as you want it to be. If this was all my mistake and I misinterpreted your actions all along I will do my best to...ignore my...my feelings for you. Just don't let me lose you." He whispered the last part.

She was stunned into silence and blinked a couple of times before she could make sense out of what he'd just said. He thought she was rejecting him. Rejecting the man that had been there for her in her darkest hours, had been her light, her warmth, her hope. And that man, the one person that she was terrified of losing, was exactly as terrified of losing her. And suddenly she knew that she did not need time to think.

"Tony...?" she said, taking his hand so he would look at her. "You will not lose me. You will never lose me, okay?" He nodded. "But you have to promise me one thing."

"Anything."

"Don't let me lose you either." As soon as her words were out his eyes lit up again and they didn't need words to reassure the other that they intended to stick around in the future. They always had the most meaningful conversations when not talking at all.

**FIN**

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**...erm...review please? *bad poker face***


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